


Inked

by virtueofvice



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-05
Updated: 2014-09-05
Packaged: 2018-02-16 07:02:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2260377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtueofvice/pseuds/virtueofvice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Those on the fringes of Gotham have to stick together. He's not a real doctor, and she's not really getting better; but they'll cling to one another to keep from drowning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inked

Tattoos. Dragon, tiger, scorpion… Throwing stars and daggers shimmered across her skin, death and violence entwined in a macabre dance, delighting in their lethal glory, happy to reside, warm and gleaming, on her flesh. Skin, white like porcelain, nearly glowing in the half-light of the half-moon from the half-open window, warm as porcelain had no right to be. As he traced a fingertip over the tattoos, the ink coming alive beneath his fingertips, warming and glistening, the tiger all but purring in pleasure at his touch, he ran his eyes over her, cool blue eyes that blazed in the twilight like the flame from a driftwood fire – fast and devastating if left out of control.

This entire scenario was... wrong. Deeply wrong. He was her doctor, a psychiatrist - someone she had trusted to know her inside and out and yet not take advantage of her. But something had been burning these past few weeks, a low and sullen smolder at the base of his spine; a captured spark in her eyes when she looked at him. He should have canceled their future appointments, informal as they were - rather than risk staying the course when he knew where it would lead. But he hadn't, and she had in a matter of days proven him right. 

She was lean, elegant, entirely unconventional – everything that he could appreciate from a physical standpoint. But what interested him more, what sparked his desire and fanned it into a conflagration that consumed his typical demure composure, was her mind. After all, he was a doctor - an intellectual, explorer of the mind. He had been in love with the human mind since boyhood, entranced with its intricacies, the angelic and demonic aspects of the mortal psyche. And what was this girl before him, small and soft and inked with lethal imagery, but the most complex of psyches, embodied? She was mental alacrity and dreamlike lethargy, the delicacy of youthful naiveté layered with the unusual and fragile innocence of a killer who does not understand their own wrongs. Essentially, she was the most fascinating of minds, made flesh. Her very skin screamed it out, her complexities and inner transience laid bare for the world to see. He had never seen a woman at once so fake and yet so utterly honest. 

He nuzzled the nape of her neck, right over the deeply etched throwing stars which left a dark deadly shadow against her skin. Her scent filled him, and the animalistic portion of his brain forced out a growl of approval. There it was again, that sweet layer of uncertainty, blanketing and enhancing everything else. “I won’t hurt you.” He murmured in her ear, and felt the fear mellow. “You are far too precious a rarity to hurt.” She smelled too, of sweet whiskey, which they had been sharing, and delicate, feminine musk. That last made his pupils dilate and another growl escape his throat. He wanted her.

Lowering his lips to the warm skin of her neck, he kissed the delicate skin there, biting gently and leaving a red mark which he soothed with a sweep of his tongue. She whimpered, lean boyish hips bucking up against him, and he groaned softly into the curve of her shoulder. He raised her arms above her head, one long-fingered hand around both of her wrists, and held them there. Her dark eyes looked up at him questioningly through the gloom. 

In answer, he moved his lips to her small, round breast, capturing one taut peak in his mouth, teasing the sensitive bud with the very tip of his tongue. He suckled the flesh, and nipped sharply, making her squeal and writhe beneath him. 

God... She would be his undoing. 

The feel of her body, stripped and laid out like a sacrifice beneath him, was almost too much. Her warm skin against his, the friction and almost tangible heat, was unutterably distracting. His member throbbed in agreement, pressing eagerly against her thigh.

Not just yet. Watching her heavy-lidded eyes, he ran a hand down her torso, sliding over her hips and the soft inward curve of her belly, inked skin as smooth as the white, which never ceased to fascinate him. Cupping a hand over her mound, he felt her heat, felt her buck towards him again, a soft little whimper escaping her throat. Extending a finger, he teased her delicate flesh before sliding it inside. 

She cried out, a breathless incoherent sound that trailed off into a moan. His eyes darkened at the sound, one hand busily pleasuring her as the other kept its hold on her wrists, which twisted in his grip. He stroked inside her, feeling her quiver and shake, never quite giving her what she needed. When her breaths grew shallow and her whimpers increasingly pleading, he pressed a thumb down hard on her sensitive crux, feeling her shudder and fall apart. Her snug channel clamped down on his fingers, flooding with warmth. His hips jerked forward reflexively as hers ground against his hand, milking the last of her orgasm. He grunted softly, deliberately squeezing his eyes shut tight for a brief moment, to blot out the sight of her writhing in pleasured abandon. If he thought about it too much, he would be too tempted to dispense with her pleasure in favor of taking his own. 

He released her wrists, and her small hands immediately grasped at the bedsheets as she struggled to catch her breath. Looking at her, his eyes shining with lust, he made sure that she watched him as he lifted his fingers to his lips and licked off every last drop of her essence. His eyes slid shut, reveling in her intoxicating flavor, and he received a high-pitched whimper for his efforts. “Please…”

Nuzzling the hollow space beside her collarbone, grazing his lips along her neck, he nibbled her earlobe and ran a tongue over the delicate shell of her ear. He seized a steel piercing gently between his teeth and tugged, playful. She let out a breathy sigh, twining her fingers in his hair and tugging back. He purred in her ear. “Tell me what you want.”

She shivered and clutched him to her, wriggling her slim frame beneath his. He watched, bemused, as she struggled to feel his erection where she needed him the most. Giving up, she glared at him, her dainty hands clutching at his shoulders. “Damn it Jonathan!” Her exclamation was punctuated with a roll of her hips. “Fuck me!”

“As you wish.” He purred, and reaching down between their bodies, guided himself into her.

He dropped his head for a moment, exhaling slowly as he grew accustomed to the feel of her… Hot, wet silk, enveloping his hard shaft like a decadent glove… It was nothing short of heaven. She whimpered, jerking him back from his reverie, and he began to move within her with long, even strokes.

Sliding his hands down her legs, first one side, then the other, he pulled her knees up against him, angling her pelvis so that with each thrust he drove her one step closer to true madness.

Her breathing changed then, rapid gasps ending in short little cries that pierced through the dark room like a blade through soft velvet. The sounds were unbelievably erotic, and combined with the sight of her losing control beneath him were almost too much. He closed his eyes again, grunting with the effort to keep himself in check. He would not come before her.

Letting her legs wrap around him, squeezing and drawing him in even closer, burying his length even deeper inside her, he brought a hand to her breast. Gently fondling, squeezing, he listened as she fell silent, a sign of her impending climax. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, and in the same moment he rolled a delicate, pink nipple between his fingertips and pinched. She yelped, shattering with a keening cry.

“God, Jonathan, yes!”

A strangled, guttural noise escaping him, he took her harder, feeling her spasming vault grip him and clutch him tight, just as her hands were doing, dragging her painted claws down his back. Eyes shutting tight, he groaned and climaxed within her, her inner walls still so hot, still quivering with her release.

Slumping, he held himself up on trembling arms, bent at the elbow as he dipped his neck to whisper in her ear. Spent as he was, he managed to find the will to be sarcastic as he drawled, “I trust you will be making another appointment in the near future?”

“Of course, Doctor.”


End file.
